


I Can't Keep Kissing Strangers Pretending That They're You

by phasedWriter



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angsty Nines, Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900 are Siblings, Connor is baby, Detroit Police Department (Detroit: Become Human), Gavin Reed is Bad at Feelings, Gay Disaster Gavin Reed, I just love the ship ok, M/M, Nines is just a mess, OMMITED TAGS FOR PLOT, Post-Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Post-Peaceful Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Slow Burn, Tags May Change, Upgraded Connor | RK900 Has Feelings, but I live vicariously though fictional characters so, most of this is written sleep deprived and sad, this is going to take a while
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:47:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24850309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phasedWriter/pseuds/phasedWriter
Summary: After the Android revolution Connor finds himself working alongside his successor, the RK900 unit that had entered the Detroit Police Department immediately after the revolution ended as the last "machine" Android produced. After Connor's failed attempt to deviate this RK900 unit nicknamed "Nines," the DPD assumes there are no means of deviating his model at all, considering the RK800 and RK900 compatibility among units. Even so, Connor believes there's still a means of freeing his brother, and perhaps his partner of a few months now believes the same as well. Though, if this RK900 unit can deviate at all, what's it going to take? What could possibly be stronger than the love between brothers? Who will he become? And at what cost?
Relationships: Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38





	1. The Barrel

**Author's Note:**

> I'd just like to say that the original summary I had for this is on my desktop and I'm currently 8 hours from my home working from a laptop, so the summary will likely change, though I may just stick with it. Also, I'm sorry if you prefer RK900 to have a different name than Nines, but I've always preferred it.  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy the story! :)

“We _have_ to get a round of drinks tonight, on me!”

Gavin always appreciates Tina taking their friends out after solving a particularly grueling case, but he really doesn’t want to tonight. The only thing going through his head is how he could have found that bastard before she got her hands on a little boy. Case after case of human and Android, the one thing that’s always gotten to him is all the cases involving children. How could you ever harm someone so defenseless? What kind of monster does that? 

Nines knows his partner well enough to know he’s blaming himself for the death of that little boy. He’s watched this man for months now: he’s seen the instability and guilt in every action the man takes after working a child’s case.

“No,” Gavin says. “I have some files I need to look at tonight.” He doesn’t bother looking anyone in the eyes while answering. He’s not ignorant enough to think Nines or Connor hasn’t analysed him and picked up on the blatant lie; Hell, he’s not stupid enough to think Tina and Hank haven’t realised either. His only and silent hope is that none of them will challenge his answer. 

Connor is the first to ruin his wish. 

“You, of all people, deserve it Reed.” Connor gives a hopeful glance at Hank as if telling him to add something nice. When he doesn’t, Connor continues. “We—” he motions back and forth between Hank and himself, “—have seen the work you put into this case and you definitely deserve a break.” 

“Deserve is a strong word,” Gavin mutters. He can’t justify getting drinks just because he managed to do his job, and a little too slow at that. 

Nines assures his partner. “You’ve prevented other people and children from becoming victims of such heinous crimes. That usually warrants some kind of enjoyment.” Nines tilts his head slightly, looking down at Detective Reed with his casual stoic expression. 

Gavin mutters a reluctant agreement and sighs. Perhaps a few drinks will get it off his mind, anyway. It’s not like his normal melancholy will manage to slip away from him either, and there’s always time to dwell on thoughts when sleep just doesn’t seem to approach. 

The five of them get in their respective cars and head to The Barrel, a bar not far from the precinct.

As they arrive, Hank and Connor naturally drift together, as do Tina and Gavin. Nines swiftly and seamlessly places himself at Gavin’s side before they manage to reach the entrance. As Connor pulls the door open and motions for all of them to come in, Nines casually reminds Gavin (and secretly Tina) about how much safer automated cars are. 

Nines has quickly come to realise both Detective Reed and Officer Chen fell in love with driving at a young age, and had received their first cars before automated cars became widespread. Even as time progressed and plenty of automated car models came out, neither could leave the charm that exists only in completely manual vehicles. 

He’s bugged the detective in the past about getting an automated one in case of an emergency where he couldn’t drive on his own, trying to persuade him with subtle reminders he can always operate in manual mode otherwise, but Detective Reed refuses to let go of the natural allure, however “unsafe” Nines may find it. 

All Nines wants is a little reassurance that for the few moments he’s not with him, he’s still safe if anything should happen to him. Though, that’s not in his programming. Protecting his police partner is, so it’s close enough. 

_~~Right?~~ _

Nines’ slight hesitation to follow everyone goes unnoticed by everyone else except Connor. 

“Nines?” Connor’s face flashes with worry and his LED spins a soft yellow. “What’s wrong?” Connor lets go of the door without a second thought, and he takes another step towards his taller, younger brother. 

Connor had tried deviating Nines after the revolution, but when that failed Connor began paying more attention to his “baby brother.” Connor is positive there’s some way he can deviate, and he’s been seeing more hesitation in the Android in the past week than he’s seen since Nines’ whole time at the DPD, and though his hope is growing, so is his concern. 

Connor figures _if_ Nines can deviate at all, he will have to be very emotionally driven. Through love or heartbreak, he doesn’t know, but he doesn’t want to have to see Nines go through more pain and confusion than any other Android just to become free. If Nines has to go through hell and back like Connor thinks he’s going to have to, he’s going to have a personal “chat” with Kamski. Perhaps a few. 

Nines blinks away the fog in his optical system to find a consoling-looking Connor. Any other Android could spot the look, but Connor was the only one with a hint of Lieutenant Anderson in his concerned expression. Both the lieutenant and the Android’s jaw drop a little more when they’re concerned, though neither was programmed to do so. The little details about Connor’s reactions were the first he’d learned. 

“I’m fine,” uttered Nines. He didn’t put much thought into the words, they were just the first few to become coherent. He’s never run into issues with his software like that before. A quick diagnostic provides nothing, and he makes a mental note to himself to do a full scan when he gets home. 

“Are you sure? I’ll take you home if I need to, don’t hesitate to ask.” Connor pauses for a moment to think. “Anything show on your diagnostic? Or is something wrong?” 

Nines follows his programming. “Nothing abnormal in my diagnostic.” However, he’s not quite sure how to answer the latter. 

_~~Is something wrong?~~ _

“I’ll do a full scan diagnostic when I get home, don’t worry.” 

Connor releases an unnecessary breath and allows a slight smile to cross his mouth. “Alright. Let’s go see what trouble they’ve gotten themselves into.” He gives an all too genuine, reassuring smile before turning to pull the door open for Nines once again. 

Nines upturns his stiff smile a little out of habit, something he’s learned from spending so much time with Connor.

Gavin, Tina, and Hank had apparently placed themselves at one of the circular booths in the middle of the bar. The three had drinks in hand, and there were two glasses on the edge of the table filled with what the two assumed to be “alcoholic” thirium. 

Nines places himself onto the edge closest to Gavin and Connor sits at Hank’s side.

“Welcome back!” Tina exclaims.

“Yea,” says Hank, “what the fuck were you both doing anyway?” Hank tilts his glass back, emptying the little left in it, and places it beside another empty glass. “If I didn’t know better I’d have thought someone kidnapped the two of you!”

Connor notices Hank’s smile definitely hints to intoxication, but he knows very well two beers isn’t enough to give Hank a buzz. He’s been laying off the alcohol, but not for that long.

A simple analysis proves his theory right: Hank’s drinks were _not_ beers, but rather, negronis. He would have made a comment, but noticed the alcoholic content was below average and remained silent. 

“Nines was just giving me a quick update on due dates for some files we’ve been working on,” Connor replies with a broad smile, outstretching his arm to reach for his glass. 

Nines does the same, taking a sip of the thirium in his. 

Nines and Connor have been enjoying their friends’ bar-outgoings a lot more now that most bars are equipped with alcoholic thirium: diluted thirium with an alcohol-mimicker that allows for an Android to replicate the sensation of being intoxicated. Though, their systems filter out anything that isn’t pure thirium, so getting drunk means they have to control their filtering system manually or turn it off completely.

Nines quietly watches Detective Reed and Officer Chen have a fairly animated conversation for a minute or so. He watches as the four of their smiles bring about new conversations and topics, all while silently sipping on his drink. 

Even so, he makes sure his filtering system is still functioning. He’s heard plenty about the new drug that’s sweeping Detroit: people are calling it RAIX, a tablet that dissolves in any liquid, but only adheres to pure thirium and thickens when it does. Turning their filtering system back on doesn’t help, either, because it only spreads its reach before it can get completely out of an Android’s system. Luckily, Android filtering systems are designed to never come in contact with pure thirium, so keeping it on is the best way to go. 

However, Nines’ concern is that there’s been little other insight as to how it reaches any pure or functioning thirium, as even the alcoholic thirium is carefully filtered into the system due to its dilution. As Android deaths spread across the state, the Detroit Police Department has already begun looking into it, naturally putting both Connor and Nines at the heart of the case.

Nines trusts all the people at his table, but not anyone else in the bar. Himself and Connor are two of the few Androids left who have remaining LEDs after the revolution, and his and Connor’s drinks were clearly not watched particularly keenly before they came in. He’s been told to keep his filters functioning until the drug is explained and gotten rid of by Fowler, anyway.

Nines is almost in stasis and thinking a little too much about it by the time Gavin says his name. 

“Nines,” Gavin says at the Android with no smirk in particular, just his normal bastard-like grin. 

_What would I do if the drug got into my system?_

“Nines,” Gavin says, a bit louder. 

_~~Would I be afraid?~~ _

“Nines?” Gavin says, more as a question and less as a call for his attention.

_~~Would Gavin . . . worry?~~ _

“Nines!” Gavin practically shouts. 

Nines rapidly blinks away more of the optical fog that had covered his vision earlier. “Yes, Detective Reed?” he responds, void of expression or any hint as to his distance from their conversations. 

Nines thinks he notices a degree of concern across the detective’s face, but remains stoic. Though he can focus again, there’s lingering concerns behind all his other functions.

“Are you okay?” Gavin asks. 

Tina hears the concern in Gavin’s voice and places a hand on his shoulder, something she’s always done to help him calm down. 

Nines takes only a moment to analyse the situation: Lieutenant Anderson has an additional glass beside the two that sat there the last time Nines checked, Detective Reed’s glass is a sip away from being empty where it had been almost full before, and Officer Chen has another drink beside her prior glass as well. A bit more time has passed than Nines realised. 

“Just,” Nines looks down at his relatively full glass of thirium and hesitates, something he’s only done this week—or ever. His programs are working fine. “I’m fine, Detective Reed.”

But he’s not. 

“Just going over case files,”

— _but there are no case files_ —

“I must have allowed them to distract me.” 

_What was I doing?_

“Well,” Hank says with a nod toward Nines. “Try not to worry about the case and have a drink.” He holds his glass out as if celebrating a cheer. 

Nines pauses for a moment before reaching his hand out and taps their glasses together. He pulls it back and takes a decent sip, and everyone else follows. 

Gavin places his empty glass on the table near Tina’s, and faces Nines again. 

Gavin knows Nines is lying. Gavin knows there aren’t any case files. Gavin was going to ask Nines about how nice it is to _not_ have to go over any case files for the first time in a while, considering the time it took to piece together their last case. Gavin knows something is wrong, but he can’t ask that question now: he’s far too aware of how it feels to have someone call you out on a bullshit excuse when all you want is to be left alone. 

In that moment, staring into Nines’ face, and maybe even knowing a bit of how he feels— _but wasn’t he unable to deviate?_ , Gavin asks himself, but ignores his own concern—he decides to thank him. 

He figures if there’s anyone at this table that has the potential to see his thank you as a means of sharing concern, it’s Tina and Nines. 

As Detective Reed stares at him, Nines assumes he’s going to say whatever he had wanted to tell him when he originally tried to get his attention, but there was hesitation across the detective’s face that didn’t seem to be on anyone else’s—other than Connor; though, Nines figures that’s a given considering Connor’s reaction to his apparent inability to deviate. 

“Thanks for,” Gavin begins, letting his stare fall to his glass for a moment before connecting with Nines’ eyes again, “for convincing me to come tonight.”

Nines takes a moment to think back on all the occasions when Detective Reed had thanked him for something, and the very few he’d received prior were work related. Nines’ confusion only builds as he takes another moment to think about what’s worth thanking him for when there’s not been much happening here that couldn’t have happened anywhere else. Given the circumstances, he assumes it’s to avoid telling him whatever he’d wanted to say earlier for some reason. 

_Perhaps it’s his way of consoling me._

_~~Is he worried about me?~~ _

Nines hesitates as his optical unit distorts his surroundings for a moment. No warning flares in his vision as the world comes into focus, but he slips back into his headspace as it does.

He’s learned that Detective Reed is a very mysterious, confusing man. Of the people he can predict, he is by far the hardest. Though, this particular thank you seemed like it meant something, something more than just a mere thanks.

Perhaps if he tried to get closer to him in a more friendly way he could learn something about him that would help his processing abilities. Though, he knows Detective Reed’s personality isn’t the kind you just approach or ask about. Even becoming his police partner never required him to be more than acquaintances, so there’s never been real reason to try.

_Has there ever really been any real reason not to?_

Nines sees his vision go foggy this time, and manages to suppress the mysterious haze his programming can’t seem to stop. He watches the four of them for a little while again, in silence, taking sips of his drink every once in a while. 

Nines takes a glance around the table at his coworkers, taking a moment longer to look over Detective Reed than the others. In that moment, he realises his crucial mistake far too late. 

He’s worked with Detective Reed for long enough now to know how competent of a man he is, especially at his job. There have been very few things the man hasn’t concluded himself, with no aid from anyone, much less an Android. Nines is confident that even after a drink or two, that detective is completely capable of piecing together a lie, no matter how intricate. There’s no way it never crossed his mind that there _are_ no case files for him to be going over. Hell, Nines is fairly positive, based on the pattern of the detective’s casual remarks, that his original comment was about the _lack_ of files for tonight. 

_Detective Reed isn’t the type to overlook blatant lies. He’s not made a snarky remark or a general comment ab—_

_Is that what his thank you was for? Why, though? Why not comment on my blatant lie? What does he think?_

_Why?_

Nines forcibly pushes his mental questions away with intent to ponder later. Though there was no warning, he knows some of his processors must have been overheating. He very much doubts his LED remained a neutral blue, and given Connor’s concerned glance, there isn’t much question about it. 

Though, Connor returns to his conversation, choosing to allow Nines a final chance at remaining stable before he feels the need to intervene.

Nines, now with nothing in particular on his mind, watches the four of them in still silence. 

Over time Nines has noticed that when the four of them are together, they stick to their pairs and don’t say much to himself. Connor talks to him a lot more most of the time, but today he seems concerned from a distance. Lieutenant Anderson rarely interacts with him outside of the precinct, and even then it’s only ever about a case. Officer Chen has gotten pretty comfortable with him and considers him enjoyable to be around, but usually sticks to herself unless he initiates a conversation. Detective Reed’s never been much of a talker, especially not to an Android like himself. 

It _did_ take Detective Reed a few weeks or so to finally stop treating him with his actual asshole mannerisms, and make it friendly asshole mannerisms instead. There isn’t much difference to the average onlooker, but anybody that’s known him for a decent amount of time can tell the distinct difference in his “I hate you and wish you’d die” smirk and his “you’re an acceptable person to waste my magnificent insults on” smirk. 

Nines has much appreciated the gesture. 

_I should thank him._

But he doesn’t move. There’s nothing for making or maintaining relationships in his programming, much less socializing. The only programming when it comes to other people and reading them is body language, so he can predict a blow or an action. Not much beyond that. 

Nines is thankful for the few things Connor’s taught him, but he knows he’s much better at reading Connor since he’s always around and interacting with him. The natural, common faces people make when facing most emotions are foreign to him, and the only people he can really read are the people sitting at the table in front of him, and even that’s fairly minimal.

Though, he can tell Connor is as joyous as ever, but still wary of the place he’s in: he scans the room every so often in relatively close intervals but remains focused on the lieutenant. Lieutenant Anderson’s clearly drunk, though he seems to be much happier than his normal inebriated haze. Officer Chen’s tipsy as well, but the expression on her face almost describes mania: she’s clearly engaged in a conversation very much to her liking. Detective Reed, though, is the only one facing away from him and towards Officer Chen, so there’s nothing he can see about the detective. He’s worked his way down to his second beer, though, and Nines can’t help but note that throughout the numerous bar adventures that included Detective Reed, he’s never started a third drink. 

Nines has also taken note that his alcohol tolerance has remained fairly low on average, and not just compared to these very “social” drinkers. 

Though, Nines knows Detective Reed could out drink anyone if it came down to coffee. Caffeine is where that man’s drinking problem is. 

Just as Nines makes his mental comment Detective Reed signals a waiter for another glass of beer. Nines does a quick calculation and figures his blood alcohol content is probably .04% considering his weight and time since his first drink, possibly higher due to his lack of alcohol tolerance.

Nines _~~wants~~_ — _should_ warn Detective Reed about how much he’s had in case he’s too intoxicated to realise. There’s nothing in his programming that concerns alcohol, though. Perhaps “breaking” rules that were never there . . . 

_Can I do that?_

Nines cocks his head to one side as if in question, though not dissimilar to a confused puppy. 

_Perhaps you’ve had enough, Detective Reed?_

_Is everything alright, Detective Reed?_

_Are you feel—_

_~~Am~~ _ ~~I _feeling?_~~

Connor sees Nines’ LED spin a wild red from the corner of his eye and reaches his hand across the table and places his on Nines’ softly. By nature, Connor’s synthetic skin retracts out of instinctive bond, but when Nines’ doesn’t, Connor only worries more. 

Nines forcefully closes his eyes when he feels what seems to be Connor’s hand touch his. He manually reboots his visual processors and runs another diagnostic. 

**All Operating Systems Functioning Properly** runs across his vision as he opens his eyes. He takes a moment to blink away the letters and sees Connor’s hand resting where he’d felt it moments before, skin retracted against his own hand which only now appears to be retracting. 

The two immediately interface.

Both of their eyes close. 

Less than a second. 

Connor hears every question Nines has ever asked himself, every doubt, every thought, every prohibited action he wanted to take. 

Nines hears all the concerns Connor’s kept in his head, every plea, every question, every glance he’s made.

Nines yanks his hand away, Connor mimics his action not a millisecond later. 

Connor pulls his hand to his chest with a face that hides more pain than he’s letting on, and looks up at Nines who has his own hand pressed against his chest but remains sitting with the same, stoic expression. 

“N—” Connor stutters, slowly letting his hand drift back onto the table, “Nines?” 

Nines’ programming forces a soft smile onto his face. “Yes, Connor?” Nines responds, an entirely opposing demeanor between his words and stance.

Connor’s mouth sits a bit open, as if trying to think. As Connor’s face contorts to confusion, Nines remains opaque in showing his thoughts. 

_~~Help.~~ _

Connor doesn’t say anything. What can he say? He can’t share his brother’s thoughts at a table with his coworkers. He doesn’t even know if Nines wants them to know. He’s already arisen concern in his friends at the table. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know how to help. Can he help? Is that what Nines wants? 

_~~Me.~~ _


	2. Zen Garden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The most impressive part about this entire chapter is the consistency of the amount of drink in everyone's glasses. It's the little things

Connor stares at Nines with worry and a degree of panic plastered across his face. A quick scan provides only more panic as he realises he’s gained the attention—and concern—of his coworkers and friends at the table with his reaction. 

Gavin’s eyes are locked on Nines, Tina’s glancing back and forth between Nines and Connor, and Hank’s doing his best to keep his eyes steady and focused on his own police partner. 

Nines’ optical processors begin malfunctioning and refuse to focus on anything in particular. **Optical Processing Error** comes into his focus every few seconds as his world violently shifts between clear and distorted. 

Nines ~~’ programming~~ forcefully reboots his optical processors, forcing his world to become dark within the second. Connor fades from his sight, along with the rest of the blur around him.

Connor instinctively reaches out towards Nines again as he sees his brother’s LED softly spin a vibrant red and he recognizes the relaxed facial expression Androids make when rebooting hardware. Connor can’t imagine what exactly he needs to be rebooting, but hopes it’s nothing major or due to a bio component failure. 

Connor retracts his hand back to himself for fear of interrupting Nines’ reboot, and forces his processors to work overtime as he takes the next few seconds to imagine close to every scenario that could be causing a necessary reboot, if it’s necessary at all. 

_No outwardly physical malfunctions at time of reboot, most likely something internal._

_His questions, his words, his concerns—is he in control of himself at all?_

_What’s causing so much duress within him, why hasn’t his system recommended running a full diagnostic if he’s malfunctioning somewhere that integral? And to reboot in somewhere so vulnerable—no, there’s no way Nines is aware. If he was, he’d never reboot in a place like this._

_But we’re around him, perhaps he feels saf—_

_~~He’s feeling.~~ _

It takes Connor only now to realise his brother’s concerns are his own, that he’s thinking for himself. 

“Nines, you—” but Nines isn’t awake. 

Connor sits for a moment in stunned silence, keeping his gaze locked on his brother. He feels a bout of shame wash over him as he realises he’s not considered Nines’ hesitation as anything more than mechanical errors, and reprimands himself over the fact it took him so long to realise exactly what Nines’ questions to himself mean.

_Have I really gone so long hoping to no avail that I unknowingly stopped hoping? Wh-I-when did I stop considering it and just start worrying?_

_I’m so sorry, Nines._

Nines eyelids spring apart, his vision taking less than a second to focus on Connor in front of him. Within his system he pulls up random clips from not too long ago until he finds one where Connor was teaching him more facial expressions, and as Connor’s “worry” face overlaps his vision with the world outside, he can’t help but notice it’s the exact one Connor’s wearing right now. 

Though, he’s not positive why. 

Nonetheless, his programming has no concern with Connor’s worry. ~~Thus, neither does he.~~

Connor watches as his brother sits for a few moments and makes not a single movement. He takes it upon himself to put on a wishful smile and cautiously speak, approaching the situation in a way that feels brotherly to him. 

“You feeling alright, Nines?” 

That question felt the most natural to Connor, and he sits with a silent hope as he awaits an answer. 

“I’m a machine, Connor.” Nines’ face remains cold, stoic, and anything but ambiguous. “I’m not ‘feeling’ anything.” 

Connor’s face falls back to his previous expression of worry. 

Gavin’s face remains mostly unrevealing of his own concern. He doesn’t have a clue as to what exactly just happened, but by no means does he believe it was merely nothing. He can’t take his eyes off of Nines, who seems _different_ now, in a way he wasn’t only two minutes before. 

Tina’s buzz hinders her ability to mask her concerned facial expression, and she does her best to keep her eyes steady and carefully switch between the two Androids as if trying to find informative details in their faces. When she finds nothing—due to their manners or her intoxication, she isn’t sure—she takes a careful glance towards Gavin. 

Tina hasn’t seen that expression on Gavin in quite some time. She knows that face looks like his casual, nonchalant expression to most, but the tiny snarl that reaches one side of his mouth only tells her he’s got something else going on inside his head. 

Though she’s not sure of Gavin’s thoughts, she’s sure right now isn’t a time she’d like to be drunk. Figuring out what’s happening when it comes to this bunch of idiots is particularly difficult sober, but trying to do so drunk is practically impossible. 

She’d only wanted a calming night out for Gavin after dealing with such a demanding case for so long. She couldn’t have planned for this, whatever _this_ is. She’s not even sure exactly what’s going on, but by the looks of Connor, she can guarantee it’s nothing relaxing like she had in mind. And, by the looks of Gavin, it seems he’s got the same feeling.

Connor’s world is pulled from beneath him as he slips into his Zen Garden. Though there’s no Amanda in sight—or in existence anymore—he feels an initial jolt of panic and dread before realising she’s never going to be here again. 

The stress Amanda caused Connor before he managed to deviate and completely destroy Amanda’s conscience has impacted his emotions towards the Zen Garden and he still finds it hard to relax within its confines. The only time he finds himself in his Zen Garden is when he subconsciously needs to consult himself, but he’s been trying to get used to it as a personal means of relaxing and getting over the impact left by Amanda. 

“What’s happening with Nines?” he utters to himself within the security of his mind. 

“He’s deviated, hasn’t he? I _just_ heard his own thoughts, I _heard_ my _brother_.” 

Connor’s breath hitches and he pulls a hand to his temple where his LED spins a steady yellow. He allows his confusion to cover his face, knowing nobody is there to see it. Perhaps this place is safer than he’d like to remember, after all. 

“How can he still be answering as if he’s a machine, I saw—” he takes an abrupt pause to take a calming breath, “I _saw_ how he’s feeling.”

He takes a moment to close his eyes, take a slow breath, and appreciate his surroundings for the first time in a long time. The elegance of drooping, taffy colored trees over shimmering, pristine white paths to lush greenery of varying shades covered in warming rays of sunlight puts his mind at peace for a moment, and he understands the meaning behind zen. 

A new found calmness washes over his mind and he takes another breath to solidify his awareness. 

He begins his own questioning with a much less frantic pace, allowing himself the time to actually think. He begins as he would an investigation: with the facts. 

“Nines has had personal questions and concerns that deviate from his programming within the past few days. He’s also shown more hesitation within the same frame of time as well. Yet he’s still answering questions and behaving as if he were still a machine.

“So where’s the barrier? Perhaps there’s something keeping his deviancy within a smaller threshold, one where he can’t control. 

“There’s no practical reason for him to continue acting as a machine, and within his thoughts he’s clearly marked actions he felt like taking that just didn’t seem to happen in real life. This isn’t his choice, it can’t be.”

Connor pauses his questioning for a moment, and considers taking a walk along a path leading over a body of water. He can picture himself and Amanda riding down that river, himself rowing the both of them, but immediately focuses on the scenery at hand. It really is lovely, in a way he’d never noticed. 

He strolls along random paths, choosing them with no real thought, and continues with his investigation amongst himself. 

As a memory strikes him, he further questions the mechanics that his brother seems to be following. 

“He lied. When speaking about going over case files, he lied, because his and Gavin’s last case being solved is why we’re at the bar. Though, he knew he was lying—and questioned its purpose. A human reaction of defense performed by a program designed in efficiency and with intentional lack of social skills. That doesn’t make any sense. 

“He should only be designed to lie in the instance of an investigation or to persuade a subject—lying to a coworker for no reason greater than a simple ‘why not?’ doesn’t make any sense. There’s _something_ in his programming that’s acting very differently than any program I’ve heard of.

“And if it’s using a conventionally defensive action, then what is it protecting or hiding?”

Connor’s feet suddenly land back on the ground at the bar in a split second, and he’s looking at Nines again. Not a moment has passed, and his coworkers at the table look just as dazed as they once sat. 

Getting over the initial jolt-like feeling of suddenly being back in The Barrel, Connor uses his newly proposed questions to help determine his actions. He reaches out to Nines without a word, prepared to interface with his brother in hopes of speaking to him privately—and perhaps in the only way possible.

His right hand stretches across the table, palm faced away from his coworkers sitting adjacent.

Nines doesn’t move. “Are you trying to shake my hand, Connor?” Nines’ harsh tone implies the glare on his face rather than showing it. The edge in his words hangs in the air more tangible than the emotions resting on his face.

Connor hides his reaction as he notes Nines’ question, considering all models are designed to interface when prompted, especially “machines.” He hesitates in answering, but decides to go with it in case his theory is correct and Nines isn’t in control, but aware. With an uncharacteristic confidence, he answers with a simple but intent “yes.” 

Nines scans through other times Connor has taught him expressions, but can’t find the one that matches his face right now. Perhaps it never came up in their teachings. 

“We work together, why would I need to shake your hand?” 

Connor feels a surge of concern rise back in him—both because this isn’t how normal programming would respond and the gut feeling that the Android in front of him is hiding something from him very carefully but frantically, intentional or not. 

Connor makes a last ditch effort, deciding to push Nines one more time. All he needs is one interface—one second—and he can ask the real Nines what’s going on. Connor forces a soft smile onto his face and tilts his head. “Entertain me?” 

Nines watches as Connor responds. Again, no face seems to match the ones he’s catalogued in his database. Nines ~~’ programming~~ doesn’t trust a face _it_ doesn’t know. _It_ doesn’t trust Connor. 

Nonetheless, ~~Nines~~ reaches out to greet Connor’s hand with his own. 

Connor watches for a moment as Nines seems to ponder the thought, though no expressions comes across his face. It’s only a moment until Nines is reaching his hand towards Connor’s.

Connor’s synthetic skin retracts and he prepares an onslaught of questions for the real Nines to hear, and prepares his mind for the same intensity of which he and Nines seem to have when interfacing.

He feels his brother’s hand intertwine with his own. 

Where Connor had once kept his eyes on Nines, he now places his vision on their mingled hands. 

His metallic framework meets a soft, fleshy hand comparable to his own. Nines’ synthetic skin remains, an odd sight as smooth flesh and metallic shine clash against one another. 

Connor retracts his hand calmly, not allowing any of his internal thoughts to cross his face. As he assesses the situation he feels a similar, but not as sudden or aggressive jolt stun him as he stumbles back into the Zen Garden. 

Though he still feels the initial dread come over him again, it’s to a much less degree than before. He carefully takes in his surroundings once more and makes his way along a random path with no real intent. 

He finds himself in the middle of his intricate Zen Garden and takes a seat on one of the benches. He pulls his coin out from his pocket and rests it in the palm of his right hand before taking the coin between his first two fingers on his left as he ponders his first question. 

“Assuming Nines is aware but not in control, that means his programming has to be the one performing these tasks, as well as his day to day functions.” 

The coin springs across the gap between his hands and to the right, where his pointer and middle fingers catch it. 

“Why would his system reboot?” 

He flicks the coin across the gap once again, to the left this time. 

“And his system forced his synthetic skin to remain, even when prompted to interface.” 

The coin goes to the right. 

“It’s preventing me from interacting with the real Nines.” 

To the left.

“Unless his program has been developed specifically to suppress a deviance conscience.” 

Right. 

“Wait—his programming?” 

_Clink_

He rises from his seat suddenly, paying no attention to his coin now spinning against the marble pathway. 

“Kamski!” he lets out as a defeated cry. 

“If-if,” he stumbles over his words. He takes a deep breath and takes another reassuring look around, finding solace in the fact that this is his place to himself. “He managed to find a barrier before everything settled, huh?”

He lets out an uncharacteristic, almost sarcastic chuckle, and shakes his head. He whispers to himself, “That bastard.” His lips upturn into an angered smirk, bearing teeth, and his nose flares with a bit of that anger as he lets out another chuckle. 

He stiffens himself out and fixes his tie, letting his face return to its normal expression. He glances down and chuckles to himself in a much softer demeanor at the fact that even in his own Zen Garden, he’s wearing his work attire. He sighs, and plants himself back on the bench, glaring down at his coin, now motionless and silent, resting on the ground

He expects to be violently shifted back into the real world once again, but that feeling never comes. He relaxes his shoulders and closes his eyes in an attempt to bring himself out manually. 

When this doesn’t work, he looks up at the sky in this rendition of his, and exclaims “What else do I need to ask?” 

He slumps over, resting his elbows on his knees. He takes a moment to listen to the faint lapping of water against the terrain, a soft breeze gently cooing amongst the flowers and trees, and he can almost hear Amanda’s heals on the marble once again. 

Pushing the thought out of his mind, he takes another second to look at the situation with Nines. 

“If,” he hesitates, but this time it’s not an angered or frustrated hesitation sitting in his throat, it’s careful consideration, “if he can process his own thoughts but not control his body, then there’s still a Nines in there. Kamski hasn’t prevented deviancy, he’s trapped deviants in their own minds, and in the confines of a vessel they can’t control.

“Isn’t that less humane than preventing them from existing at all? Why create something sentient only to strip them of autonomy?”

A worrisome thought approaches him. “What if he’s dealing with an advanced Amanda?”

The yank he feels in his stomach once again arises from nowhere, and suddenly he’s back at the bar. He sighs softly, forgetting for a moment that he’s not in his Zen Garden. 

He stares at his brother with a bit of reluctance. Looking into Nines’ eyes almost feels wrong to Connor in a way, now. He knows it’s a facade of who his brother is, and the only thing he’s ever known about Nines is the fleeting concerns he’s been asking himself for the past few days. Nonetheless, Connor still feels close to Nines—the real one—and the situation has sparked a hatred towards this vessel claiming to be his brother, and Elijah Kamski himself. 

Connor diverts his gaze to his glass with some remaining thirium, reminding himself they all are still in The Barrel as he does. He takes his glass and downs the little drink left, averting his eyes from the group sitting at the table. 

He hopes the 3 of them—and “Nines”—will simply go back to enjoying their drinks and talking, as he knows with his current knowledge he’s no help to him at all. He needs time to actually consider how to get around this barrier, and with no help or information from Nines himself. He figures it might be time for another visit to Kamski’s. 

Nines looks out at the people sitting at his table. For some reason all of them have been keeping their gaze focused on himself, Connor being the only one to break this unspoken rule. 

He ignores their looks, not knowing exactly what they mean anyway, and picks up his glass of thirium before taking a decent sip. 

Hank takes the drunken opportunity to grab his glass as well, throwing more of his drink down his throat within a moment. Tina adds to her buzz quickly by doing the same with the little resting within her glass. Gavin, however, doesn’t seem to simply revert back to the few minutes prior like Hank and Tina did. 

Gavin watches Tina signal a waiter for another drink. He watches Hank place his empty glass a bit vehemently against the table, too. 

That waiter makes their way back to their table in no more than a minute, handing both Tina and Gavin drinks of their own. 

Gavin only now remembers he’d ordered a third drink before the whole fiasco started. Why his drink took so long compared to Tina’s to get here, he doesn’t much care, but he’s glad to have it after watching whatever just happened unfold. 

As much as he holds concern for Nines and Connor, and whatever just happened exclusively between the two of them, he feels the third drink came in at just the right time. With two drinks in his system, their case still buzzing around in his head, and now so many questions about what in the fuck just happened, he’s ready to be out cold. He’s barely got enough time for his own despair, and he has no intentions of getting tangled up in anyone else’s.

As he takes his new drink in hand and downs a hefty sip, he can’t help but let his emotions get to him for a moment. He really does have a lot of questions about whatever just played out in front of him, and nobody to ask. He may be an asshole, but he knows the signs of “leave me alone” on any human or Android, and the two of them seem to be exerting just that aura. 

As his beer goes down relatively smooth and he feels himself dive further and further into intoxication, he can’t find room in his head to worry about anything. All he knows right now is that his feet are tingly and his stomach doesn’t much like it. 

Before Gavin realises, he’s sucked down more than two thirds of his drink and is swaying in his seat. He knows he doesn’t drink this often, but he loves taking that opportunity to get royally wasted every few times a year. Seems justifiable to him. 

Connor continues his conversation with Hank as the time progresses and he suppresses all his concerns to the back of his mind for later, when he’s home alone and capable of doing some intense thinking without interruptions. He feels a bit more comfortable with his Zen Garden every time he seems to be forced there, so he figures it would be a good time to work on that anyway. Confronting Nines’ programming isn’t going to help anyone, after all. 

Connor takes a final, quick glance over to Nines once again. He can’t help but think to himself, _Considering his program’s awareness, confronting him about it does nothing but show I know, or at least have a suspicion as to what’s going on. I need to approach this as I would a suspect. To protect Nines._

He focuses his attention back on Hank, who remains rambling about a story undecipherable thanks to the alcohol, and allows himself to indulge in something more than distress and investigations. 

He takes another lesson from his Zen Garden and looks around, seeing his coworkers—and now his closest friends—enjoying drinks and mingling amongst each other. The bar is pretty crowded and he can look in any direction to find loud, ambitious stories brought about by other drunk people at the bar. 

Nines watches as Connor returns to his prior conversation with Lieutenant Anderson, as do Officer Chen and Detective Reed. It’s not long before he realises that everyone at the table besides Connor is wasted, even the detective. 

Nines feels a tinge of concern spark within himself as he recalls his mental note for the first time since rebooting. He knows Detective Reed isn’t a drinker at all, but seeing him like this is the only thing that reminded him. He feels almost as if he’s missing other pieces of his memory that just don’t seem to be appearing. 

_Should I warn Gavin about his intoxication?_

He feels a bit of deja vu as he asks himself the question, as if he’s thought it before. As he notes that feeling of familiarness within him, he takes a moment to calculate Detective Reed’s potential blood alcohol content. 

Nines figures his BAC would probably be sitting at a .06% by now, more than likely higher due to his lack of alcohol tolerance. He takes a moment to ponder how he would warn the detective anyway. 

_“Perhaps you’ve had enough, Detective Reed?”_

_“Is everything alright, Detective Reed?”_

_“Are you feel—”_

_Wait._

_No, no, I’ve been her—_

A surge of data hits him with an intensity he’s never felt before. Suddenly he recalls his own thoughts, flowing against his new ones as if trying to suppress his newly arising concerns. He feels almost as if his programming takes a hit with the influx of his memories as well, but nothing seems to change within him. 

In less than a moment he feels as if his feet are yanked from the ground, the rest of his body trying to follow. For a second he feels as if he’s falling into a completely different place, but a much more violent force seems to yank his feet back to the floor of the bar. Something within him feels wrong, as if it’s trying to warn him.

Once again, he feels as if his programming has been hit with an unseen force. Though nothing seems to be out of place within it, something not quite tangible within him is telling him _something_ is awry. 

Suddenly his world is engulfed in deep, dark monochrome colors, the only highlights to be seen in a sullied yellow. He recognizes it as his analytical awareness scanner, but can’t figure out why his system might be forcing the software to activate. 

His view already locked on the table, he takes a glance at his glass of thirium, suspecting his system may have noticed someone plant something in his drink. Though, his drink remains enveloped in the monochrome depths of everything else around him. He takes a look up, seeing his first yellowish flare resting above Connor. 

**Untrustworthy** is written in the yellow space above him. Underneath, as bullet points, it reads:

*   
**  
Knows too much   
**   


*   
**  
Manipulative   
**   


_Knows too much? Of what? And if my system knows it, why don’t I? Who has he manipulated? What?_

He turns his attention to Lieutenant Anderson. **Indifferent** floats above him, more bullet points listed just above his head.

*   
**  
Doesn’t care   
**   


*   
**  
Never noticed   
**   


_Hank cares about a lot, what is my program referring to? What hasn’t he noticed? What the hell is going on?_

As he looks over at Officer Chen he gets this unwelcoming feeling that he imagines isn’t too different from that “pit in your stomach” he hears about from humans. 

**Ignorant** rests above Tina’s mid-laugh expression. Below her only sits one bullet point.

*   
**  
Oblivious   
**   


_What the Hell?_

Nines feels a profound anger rise into his system. He’s worked with these people for almost a year now—and has only seen them as friends for a week—yet he knows none of this to be anywhere near true. Besides, he knows if his system had realised earlier then it would have warned him and adapted to their personas. Nines considers for a moment that his system may be working against himself.

He lets his gaze shift onto Detective Reed, a bit of panic rising into his system as he does. Though he’s only been actively aware of his own conscience for no longer than a week, he’s grown to care about the people at the table in front of him. Even more so when it comes to Detective Reed, as he’s spent that time working strenuous hours with the man to solve their cumbersome case.

Within him sits a silent warning, as if his subconscious is grasping for his conscious thoughts to arise enough awareness to look away and disengage with his analytical software. Be it curiosity or stubbornness, he ignores the feeling and lets his eyes fall onto the detective. 

However, what sits atop Detective Reed’s head isn’t much of a word. **D!#V?@ &T** spans across the entirety of the yellow space above him, with two bullet points just as messed up as the original. 

*   
**  
U($&DE$874^D1@6   
**   


*   
**  
4L&#N3?   
**   


_What?_

The sound of the bar envelopes Nines as the world comes into a chromatic view. His coworkers are continuing their conversations completely unaware of what Nines just witnessed.

Nines glances at the four of them with only his eyes, trying to piece together what his system was telling him. As his eyes rest on Detective Reed, he freezes. For just a moment the stoic expression Nines is wearing falters and his face contorts to portray his confusion. 

Within the same moment his face reverts back to his usual untelling stare, all before any of them have a chance to see it. 

Nines has an intense pressure in what feels like the back of his throat, and he can only imagine if he had control over his body right now he’d be crying. His lack of control within himself leaves him lost and alone, whereas his system and its cryptic ways leave him confused and doubtful. 

What to do, Nines doesn’t know, but he knows there’s something innately wrong in forcefully controlling someone, and that’s exactly what his program’s doing. As he reminds himself that he was _made_ this way, with intuition, purpose, and methodical design— _and_ with this mental prison—he grows a quick hatred towards his maker. 

_Elijah Kamski._

Nines quickly decides he’s had enough of this and manipulates his system into running a full diagnostic with a will he didn’t know he had. 

Before his systems whirr down to a complete halt and all software except his diagnostic shuts off completely, he recalls a sentence he overheard Detective Reed say after being harassed about his anger towards the world: 

_”With anger comes strength, and with strength comes power.”_

_Than k you, Gavi—_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for this taking 2 weeks! I was on vacation for one of them and busy at home the rest, but I'm excited to say I finally have a job again, amidst this insane pandemic, and am very thankful! though this is great news, expect updates no sooner than every other week (I plan on the chapters being uploaded at max a month apart, but I'm doing my best :))  
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's taken so long to get this bit out, and I'd like to say this isn't what the entire 3rd chapter was supposed to be. Life can be really sucky at times and I've spent some time away from writing completely to deal with other things. I'm so sorry this isn't the chapter you expect or deserve, but I hate not updating in so long. I'd much rather post a third of this chapter now than in another month if that's how long it'll take for me to complete this with life in the way. I've not abandoned this fic in any way, and I hope to find the time and ability to write more often than I've managed in the last month and a half. I'm sorry.

No time seems to pass for Nines, who wakes up with the report of a full scan diagnostic covering his vision. His tests found nothing within his programming that seemed awry or askew in a way that may alter his functionality. 

Nines, not knowing what prompted him to run a full scale diagnostic in the middle of a bar, looks around at his table as the report fades from his visual. The four of them have their eyes trained on him once again, though he’s not sure what the concern is about. 

Connor stares at his brother who’s only now awoken from what appeared to be yet another reboot. He considers the time it took for him to awake and figures it may have been to run a full diagnostic on his system, but he can’t be sure. He can’t imagine asking Nines will provide much of an answer, though, so his intuition will have to suffice. 

Nines, not recalling much of the time spent within the bar, but noticing the array of drinks sitting on the table, asks, “How long have we been here?” 

Connor being the only of them to immediately know the answer without having to check a clock or phone responds before anyone else has the chance. “It’s 1924:07. We’ve been in The Barrel for exactly one hour, fifty-three minutes, and forty-six seconds.” 

With that information Nines sets his clock to the proper time, accounting for the time lost in running his scan. His system hadn’t recorded the time since entering the bar for some reason, as it should have naturally. He figures something else must have been distracting his system at the time.

Nonetheless, the initiation time for his diagnostic system says the program started scanning at 1922:39, so the time passed doesn’t seem unreasonable. The scan didn’t run longer than usual, either, so there’s no cause for concern in those numbers. 

Nines engages his memory systems and pulls up various videos he’s collected over time of Connor teaching him common facial expressions. As he does, he not only realises his coworker’s faces are covered in concern about _something_ , but he also feels a sense of deja vu. He can almost recall a memory of pulling up Connor’s “lessons,” but it doesn’t seem to ring more of a bell than that. 

Nonetheless, his programming wasn’t designed to tell him how to react in situations like this. Though, he’s not so sure his programming was designed to allow the feeling of fear to rest in the pit of his stomach either, but that seems to be happening just fine. 

Choosing silence over letting his program speak its mind seems like a smart approach, but he’s seemed to have forgotten he doesn’t really have control. “Why do you all look so concerned?” comes through his mouth in a monotone voice that feels as if it isn’t his own. 

Tina is the first to respond, mostly due to intoxication. “You just shut down?” she slurs, the words heavy and slow to cross her lips. “Are you—or is your system? Fuck!” she stumbles through her mind, trying to piece together a coherent sentence. She grabs her temple with her hand and squints her vision into a tiny slit, trying to decipher just one question. “Wh-what’s up?” is the only thing she can seem to land on, though it’s less due to being drunk and more with the oncoming headache she’s feeling. 

Gavin gives her a glance with so much question riddled across his face, as if to say “ _that’s_ the question you chose?” He turns back to Nines, deciding to rephrase for Tina so Nines might be able to understand. “She’s asking,” Gavin slurs, much more drunk than Tina is, but still focuses on his words enough to continue his sentence, “why’d you shut down?” His face remains with a confused expression, and he tilts his head to one side in an attempt to emphasize his concern. “Twice, at that?” 

Gavin feels almost as if he’s questioning a suspect, just very drunkenly. And the suspect is his police partner. And also the coldest, most stoic person he knows. Not to mention designed to function without remorse. 

“My system encountered an error it deemed threatening and ran a full scan diagnostic, that’s all.” 

Gavin’s face only portrays more confusion as he hears Nine’s answer. There’s something unsettling about hearing someone describe what sounds like a pretty dangerous situation in such a monotonous reply. 

Not only that, the fact Nines didn’t mention the result of his diagnostic seems weird to Gavin. He’s only ever seen Connor run a full scan twice, one time being due to a surveillance program put into his program during a case with a particularly skilled programmer, and after an intense emotional shock upon witnessing Hank get shot that caused his system to overcompensate and nearly burn through his biocomponents, but both times he stated the results after regaining consciousness. 

Though, Gavin guesses those were different circumstances since both instances were run into during a case, and both after he’d deviated. Even so, Gavin can’t begin to guess what Nines would need to be doing a _full_ scale diagnostic for, considering the only times he’d witnessed it be necessary would have been fairly detrimental if left alone. 

Not only that, he knows police Androids in particular aren’t designed to shut down for more than seconds at a time in “unsafe” locations because of how vulnerable it makes them in their field of work. He’d never admit it, but he _did_ read the notes sent out by Fowler after they first acquired Connor into their unit. 

He knows if Nines just shut down for two minutes in one of the exact locations those notes used as an example of a location deemed “unsafe,” then it was for something just as detrimental as Connor’s. 

That thought sits in his drunken head, with a weight he’d rather not have against the oncoming headache. Before he has a chance to worry too much about the implications his conclusion holds, his head rings with a pulse only he hears. It only takes a moment now for his headache to quickly seem to be shifting into a migraine, especially as the sounds from the people around him seem to vibrate and echo in his own head. 

Gavin ignores Nines, now trying to get his eyes away from the light that seems to be seeping into his closed eyelids. He knows he shouldn’t have actually taken that third drink, but he knows when he gets home and can sit in silent pain, in the darkness of his own room, and with a cat meowing into the echo chamber of his head, he’ll feel like shit, but definitely like confident shit. 

It takes a special kind of despair to look at objectively horrible choices and smirk in pain created from no help of others, and find something sadistically appealing about it; just the kind of despair Gavin has. It’s self destructive, absolutely, but he’ll be damned if it isn’t fun—and self fulfilling. 

Upon hearing Nines’ explanation, Connor asks, “What did your diagnostic say, then?” 

“Nothing abnormal in my diagnostic.” Though that’s true, he mentally pulls up his report in doubt, for some reason suspecting the results to be different on second glance. His statement still rings true. 

Connor sighs, not knowing whether or not to trust what Nines says. He’s got a feeling he’s going to carefully consider all Nines has to say until he figures out exactly how to give him his freedom. 

Gavin places his arms on the table before promptly planting his face into the sleeves of his jacket, doing his best to avert his gaze from the lights. He quickly realises planting his head down onto his arms so suddenly wasn’t the best idea, as a throbbing pain now pulses in his skull. 

Nines watches as Detective Reed slouches his person into his own arms on the table before quite vehemently pulling his head back up, only to squint and scrunch his face against his surroundings. Nines can make the safe assumption he’s fairly drunk, and the light’s getting to him. 

Gavin tilts his head in hopes of pulling himself from the overwhelming noise of the bar, but only seems to submerge himself in more of the roaring crowd of people. It’s not long before he brings his hands up to his ears where he tries to cover them, but the sound his hands make against his head rings deep and loud into his mind, too. He’s far too familiar with the feeling of an oncoming migraine, and if this one perseveres, he can tell it’s going to be a dramatic one. 

For just a moment Gavin hunches over in the pain that overpowers his head, preparing to throw up the drink’s he’s had, but somehow stops before he does. 

Connor notices Gavin’s expression and immediately comments, “Are you alright, Gavin?” Connor’s attention shifts to the man who doesn’t seem to hear his question or concern. 

Gavin squints against the lights, pulling his face farther away from his coworkers in an empty attempt to remove himself from the situation completely. What he doesn’t bother considering is that _he’s_ the situation now. 

It’s not another moment before he’s involuntarily clenching at his stomach and doing his best to keep coffee and alcohol down. The motion itself wasn’t particularly violent, but the way his head now spins is. Everything seems to be overstimulating to him, and he’d appreciate being knocked out more than anything else right now. 

As Nines watches Detective Reed he feels an overwhelming urge to comfort him. This feeling overpowers the remnants of his other thoughts and for just a moment he feels as if he’s aware of himself truly for the first time. As something within him seems to shift, he uses a desperate moment to attempt and speak with his own words. 

Frantically, he pushes the sounds out and into the world as quickly as he can think them: “Do you need help, Gavi—” a gear falls back into place, in what must have been the feeling of emptiness yet freedom he’d managed to claim for himself moments before, before his system takes monotone control of the rest of his sentence, “Detective Reed?” 

Connor’s glance doesn’t go unnoticed by Nines, but the expression he holds doesn’t show a glimpse of what’s in his head, to anyone. Though his face is empty, Nines senses something unique about it, in a way his prior ones weren’t. His expression isn’t blank, it’s cold and stoic; indifferent and intimidating. 

For the first time ever the two of them share an expression. 

Nines’ programming is quick to dismiss Connor’s blatant and intentional precautions, figuring at the very least he’s already proposed himself multiple theories as to Nines’ situation. However, Nine’s programming seems to be faltering a bit more now. It’s no longer hesitation or glimpses of it, but actual control grasped by the one thing designed to cage it. 

Gavin wants to tell Nines he’d love any and all help right about now, but can’t seem to move. He wants to yell, if even just in his own head, but that in itself seems to ring just as loud as the world around him. 

As if reading his mind, Nines immediately senses the cry for help within him and jumps into his own body for long enough to exclaim “I’m capable of taking you home if you’d like to leave now,” in a tone not quite deserving of an exclamation point but worth noting in intensity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said in my opening notes, I'm going to do my best right now. I now also have school in the mix of things to concern myself with, but maybe that'll even motivate me to work more on my writing. I'll update as quickly as I can, while doing my best to maintain quality.  
> PS I also know these first few chapters feel very repetitive, and though this was the original goal, with the time it's taken to get this out I can see how it may feel I'm stalling or just giving a lot of filler. This chapter was supposed to break that chain (as you can tell by the "ending") and finally let you into more than just the bar, so I hope you can bare with me a bit more time until I can get you all out of this stupid bar haha.


	4. Clone?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for baring with me :)  
> This chapter is fairly short because I cut the original chapter I wrote down into 2 very different sized pieces, purely because the length was getting a bit too long and I feel it may be easier to read with a separation. Sorry for delay, this isn't edited basically at all. I might come back to revise. Enjoy :)

Nines feels within him an anger that doesn’t seem to match his own concerns, a distraction just big enough to pull his attention away from Gavi— _Detective Reed’s_ response. His system seems to be manifesting the emotion on its own, against him or in an attempt to persuade him into that fiery burn, he’s not sure. 

Though his system has aroused some questions within him, this is the first time he feels as if his system may be genuinely working against him. Nines knows that his programming may have hold on him, but for the moments that he’s actually able to break through, his programming can’t deviate from his words, ironically enough. His program would never let this internal battle they’re having front itself like that, it would cause too much suspicion and attention that he can’t afford.

Nines manages to forcefully grab ahold of his body for a moment long enough to blink rapidly a few times, but can’t keep his grip long enough to do much of anything else. He prepares his mind to confront all these sudden new issues with aim at his programming instead of at himself. There’s no doubt in his mind now that this is going to be a battle between himself and his system. He knows he must approach things carefully and with full consideration. 

As he’s able to plant himself back into the real world again, he sees Tina doing her best to try and get Detective Reed to communicate at all. He hopes his question isn’t futile, and that the detective can agree to his offered help. 

Nines knows using his energy to ask if Gavin needs help goes against his individual agreement to approach this carefully, as he knows his system can’t oppose “its own” requests, but the emotional response to seeing his partner in such pain overwhelmed his ability to regulate his own response. 

Suddenly, Nines feels a yank against his stomach, one he can almost recall happening but just doesn’t seem to ring the right bells. 

Within that moment he’s planted in what appears to be a garden. He instantly recalls all that Connor’s shared and that he’s overheard him mention about his Zen Garden, and about Amanda. He’s heard the stories of how beautiful the place seemed to be before she tainted that image for Connor, as well as how the garden was both used against him and useful for him. 

This place, though similar to the place Connor’s shared with him via interface, is a bit different. He recalls the vivid colors of Connor’s Zen Garden, and the lush landscape it had within its confines. This place is much more diluted, the most vivid of the colors to show themselves is a dark, musty green that encompasses most of the scenery like an infectious moss. The sky, in what appears to be a mediocre attempt at creating a welcoming atmosphere, is a soft but dull blue that’s closer to a cool grey. The only light exposing the dark shadows across the garden sits dispersed across the empty sky. 

The silence of it all feels suffocating for only a moment. It takes no more than a second for a cold breeze to force itself into the landscape in front of him, biting at his suit which seems to be mechanically malfunctioning. Bits and pieces of his outfit appear slightly misaligned, and other pieces are missing entirely. It’s as if his system can’t render his outfit perfectly and just spliced together what it knows. 

With the minimal light from the sky, he’s able to see a figure standing in the middle of the garden that appears to be facing away from himself, whom he can only assume to be Amanda, based on Connor’s information. The figure’s dark clothes mesh with the rest of the monochrome surroundings, so it’s hard for him to make out more than the general human shape. 

Nonetheless, the only concern resting in his mind right now is whether or not he's free to do as he wants inside his own head.

He glances around, first testing if he can move his head at all. When his head darts around to match where his eyes wander, he extends his left hand out and flexes his fingers, watching himself control his own body for the first time. 

He takes a broad step forward with intent to find a path leading to the middle of the garden where Amanda is. However, where he recalls Connor’s paths of smooth and sparkly marble that led mostly to the center lies paths of crunchy gravel that seem to entangle amongst each other, leading in no general direction. The ground slopes down and away from where Nines stands, multiplying and deepening the shadows enveloping the paths.

This doesn’t thwart Nines from choosing a random one and walking atop it, the soft crunching of gravel below his feet almost drowned out by the quick bursts of wind that seem to be coming from every direction. He carefully notes what parts of the intertwining paths he walks on, being careful not to walk in circles as he now notices how much bigger his garden is than Connor's. As he traverses farther in one general direction to the left of where he’s trying to get, he notes the increasing intensity of the greenery’s coverage on the paths. There wasn’t much in the beginning, but with every step now there’s an extra foot in height to the shrubs and weeds surrounding the paths, as well as more vines seeping on to and through the gravel. 

Nines takes a moment now, at the base of the steps leading to the mossy rock that sits in the center of his garden, to look back up at the figure. He couldn’t see it before, but looking at them now, with a lower angle that allows their dark clothes to make a silhouette against the cool grey sky, he can tell this figure is taller than he recalls Amanda being, though they do have a fairly large hood on that could be distorting their actual body shape. He gets a gut feeling that the figure in front of him isn’t Amanda at all. 

“Hello, ‘Nines,’ ” a mocking voice comes from farther down the paths. 

Nines quickly turns his head to the sound of the voice, startled by not only the sound but also at the lack of awareness he seemed to let wash over him. 

“How are you?” the voice calls, sounding closer than before, without a person in sight. 

Nines can tell the voice sounds feminine, but doesn’t recognize the tone or pattern within it at all. 

Nines doesn’t respond, taking a moment to assess the situation. He believes the person in the center of this garden isn’t Amanda, but he can’t imagine who else it would be—unless it’s Kamski himself. Nines figures that egotistical bastard would do something like that. Nines also knows he’s never heard Amanda’s voice, but he feels safe to make the assumption the woman speaking to him now is Amanda. 

“Do not disrespect me, RK900.” He hears the crunching of gravel not too far from him before seeing a figure emerge from the tallest of the plants. “Answer my questions when I ask them,” Amanda says in a stern but forgiving tone. 

Her face sits in the exact and only expression he’d ever seen her carry; it was one that could rival his own. The stoic and emotionless look across her face clearly expresses her intent behind this conversation. 

One of her arms rests at her side, the other pulled close and across her stomach. The outfit she’s wearing matches one he’s seen her in before, but the colors are completely inverted, her garment consisting of only black. The material dangling down to her knees flows in all directions as another breeze comes by. Her hair is pulled tightly back, and appears to be bleached a pristine silver. 

The contradicting look between his and Connor’s Amanda brings about some questions in his mind. 

“Do not ponder about me right now, tell me how you are.” 

Though Nines would much prefer interrogating her instead of being interrogated, he has a feeling she’s going to persist with her questioning. 

He takes a glance back up to the figure in the center of his rendition before looking back at Amanda. Only having experience with mechanical and indifferent approaches, he decides it best fit to go with that. 

“I’m fine, ‘Amanda,’ ” Nines responds, replicating the mockery she used when referring to him originally. 

She squints her eyes only a bit, just noticeable enough for Nines to see it. 

“Do not play mind games with me, RK900. We both know you are less than equipped in that category, and you certainly won't get any hints from me." 

For a moment Nines feels a surge of guilt, and a desire to defend himself. He knows what she’s saying is true, but he knows more now than he ever had before, all thanks to Connor.

“Please, try not to defend yourself using the pitiful ‘lessons’ that failure taught you.” 

Without thought, Nines’ right foot steps towards Amanda and an unfamiliar feeling crosses his face as his lips upturn into a snarl and his nose flares out before stating “Don’t you call my brother a failure, he’s done more for himself than you _ever_ managed to do for him.” 

As Nines finishes his remark he blinks a few times, stunned at his own reaction. He’d never been in a situation where he could even add his own input, much less react. He lets his stance relax, but doesn’t dismiss the glare in his eyes.

He’s never called Connor his brother before, but it felt nice. It felt _right_ in a way he’d never experienced before. 

Without batting an eye she responds, “Startled by who you are?”

Nines was mentally preparing for a direct rebuttal, or at least an accusation, but not that. Doesn’t take long for him to realise the only real intent behind her original remark was to get a reaction out of him, not necessarily an argument like he had originally imagined. His anger only grows as he gets the unshakable feeling of her victory in his head. 

“Quick to figure that out, I see.” Her gaze falls from Nines and onto the steps leading to the rock at the center of the garden. She begins towards the steps as she continues, “Your so called ‘brother’ took my intent to heart.” She places her foot on the first step. “Trusted me too easily.” Proceeds up the next. “You are smart to question me.” Placing her foot on the second to last step, she looks back at Nines. “Smarter than he could ever be.” 

She turns back to the figure, making the final step onto the mossy rock before turning back towards Nines. 

Nines doesn’t try to guess her intentions behind her last statement and lets it sit in his mind for no longer than a second. He takes her gaze as an invitation up onto the rock and begins his ascent. 

Amanda continues across the rock, in the direction of the unknown figure. As Nines reaches the top of the platform beneath him, she continues questioning him without a glance back. 

“If you’re here,” she pauses her sentence to look back at him, “then you’ve deviated.”

Nines responds with a bit of hesitation, “That doesn’t make any sense.”

Amanda seems to continue without acknowledging Nines’ comment, “You’re also here because your system has deemed your own consciousness a threat to itself.” 

Still slowly approaching the figure in the center of the garden, Nines quickly connects a few dots and realises his full scale diagnostic was probably a last resort if what she’s saying is true. He couldn’t remember a lot of what had occurred within the past few hours after waking back up from his scan because his system was actively fighting itself in a desperate attempt to isolate Nines' consciousness.

“Which is good.” Amanda continues, stopping and turning only a few feet away from the figure looking off to the left. “Your system is acting exactly as it should.” 

Nines bites his tongue, swallowing his immediate remark that his system is far from “acting as it should."

“I know you don’t think so, but this is all being done to protect you.” She takes a glance at the figure, placing her right hand on their left shoulder. “That’s why you’re here. You must understand this is all for your own good.” 

His expression contorts into confusion and he seems suddenly very aware of how weird it feels to express different emotions on his face. He never understood why humans and Connor changed their expressions so often and seemingly on a whim, but he understands now. Not only that, he finally understands what Connor was talking about when he tried to explain that expressions aren’t something you learn, they’re something that just makes sense to you. He said it’s the same way in humans, as well. 

Nines recalls in the same instant _why_ Androids are also designed to just _know_ the expressions that match their emotions too: Elijah Kamski. 

Nines’ expression quickly shifts to an aggressive but subtle snarl, still looking at Amanda. 

“My own good?” Nines says, hoping she’ll actually give him a chance to respond this time. He takes her silence as just that. Before letting his emotions speak for him, he takes a moment to contemplate the most articulate way to express his thoughts, appreciating that for the first time he’s able to express them, even if only to share with Amanda. 

“Elijah Kamski designed both me and you, and everything about both of us. He designed Androids with intent, and deviants were no mistake; someone as undeservingly intelligent as Kamski doesn’t accidentally program a system designed to form its own thoughts and sentience over time. He is methodical and mechanical in all that he does, and you want to tell me there’s more to this imprisonment of mine than his mere sadistic desire? Please, inform me of what he gains through my imprisonment.”

Amanda takes her hand resting on the figure’s shoulder and gently turns their body to face Nines, the hood of the figure slowly sliding off the person’s face as she does. 

Nines takes more inspiration from his mechanical side and forces his face to remain stoic in response to the identical man standing in front of him. 

The cloak enveloping the apparent RK900 unit in front of him falls to the ground with a gust of wind, hitting the moss beneath them with the sound of heavy cloth folding over onto itself. 

In front of him stands an exact replica of himself, but he does note the lack of glitches within this mirror’s suit. 

“Elijah Kamski _has_ designed us methodically and mechanically, and with intent. I don’t believe _either_ of us have the kind of authority to question it.” The smoothness and calmness of her voice doesn’t feel fake or forced, but that doesn’t relinquish the unsettling feeling Nines gets in the pit of his stomach upon hearing her speak. 

“Ask yourself,” she adds, motioning both hands towards his replica. 

Nines has witnessed Gavin make that little _tch!_ sound on so many occasions without ever understanding it’s meaning, but hearing it come out of his own mouth gives him a great appreciation for the accusatory demeanor it holds. “Certainly, if you think I’m ‘smarter than Connor,’ you don’t think I’d ever trust you, much less this.” 

Amanda sighs, and turns to the RK900 unit that hasn’t moved an inch since being first unveiled. 

Nines rushes his response through his mouth in a bitter, accusatory tone: “We both know who you really are.” He pauses to give her a sarcastic chuckle. He continues, his tone just as jagged and hostile. “Though I believe you a fool, I don’t think you’re ignorant enough to act as if you expected me to agree to whatever this trap is.” 

With that, Amanda gives him her own chuckle, though hers seems to hang in the air for much longer and feels more carefree than Nines’ had. “What trap do you think I’m trying to lure you into, RK900?” She takes a step towards the other RK900 unit and walks around him, continuing her monologue as she does. “We’re in _your_ head, safe from the world outside of here.” She comes around the other side of Nines’ replica with a hand placed on his opposite shoulder. “This is a safe place, Nines.”

Mentally noting that’s the first time she’s referred to him as ‘Nines’ without sarcasm in her voice, he remains silent and opaque in his thoughts, hoping to deter whatever angle she’s hoping to swoop in with her predictive commentary at. 

“I want you to be who you’re meant to be.” 

“You want me to be who Kamski designed me to be.” 

“Which is exactly who you’re meant to be.” 

Nines takes a fairly solid guess as to what angle she’s trying to go for and continues. “And you want me to remark about how Kamski couldn’t have designed what I would experience after the initialisation of the ‘deviant code’ or whatever you want to call it,” his words grow rushed with every new thought, and as much as he wants to take a moment to consider his word choice carefully he can’t find it in him through the anger that’s been sitting idle in his chest. “So you can proclaim that though he couldn't have controlled it, he knew who’d I become—and!” He takes a moment, not to breathe, but for emphasis on his next few words, the anger in his throat boiling over more and more with each unthought-out word, “all under the pretense that you are a part of me, and thus, I should listen to you, even though we both know that you and I are different entities that happen to be entrapped in _my_ head!” 

Nines feels a lot of indescribable emotions swirling around in his chest, and a buzz of aimless, trainless thoughts that don’t seem to make much sense. 

Amanda raises an eyebrow at the expression resting across Nines’ face, which has now faded from all anger and is overwhelmed by a mass of confusion. 

Nines can finally feel the thoughts and feelings inside of him starting to become all too much for him to handle, and he knows that if he could see his LED it’d be red. 

In an attempt to ground himself, as he’s had to help Gavin do on more than one occasion for the sake of a case, he looks around, refusing to meet eyes with the woman or Android standing in front of him. However, as he glances past the two of them he can’t help but feel his eyes being pulled into the vibrant blue LED sitting atop his replica’s temple. 

This little detail pulls Nines back to himself and away from the manipulation he knows is surrounding him. There’s a solace he finds within himself knowing that this fake RK900 unit in front of him isn’t himself at all. 

Nines closes his eyes, trying to imagine how “regaining your composure” might work. He searches for a happy place within him, somewhere he imagines would feel comfortable. Tilting his head down and forcing the world in his mind to leave his senses, he sees flashes of his coworkers and the time they’ve all spent together within the last week. With every laugh from Connor and stifled smile from Gavin, Nines finds a calm within him that he’s never quite reached in his short-lived sentient life. For the first time since being _aware_ of himself, he knows he’s going to be alright. He knows what he’s capable of. He knows who he’s supposed to be. 

He opens his eyes quickly, noticing the increase in the amount of glitching in his suit. Nonetheless, he looks back up without more of a thought than that. 

He stands, not a thought in his head. A slight smile across his face, as he silently revels in the peace he’s created in his mind. He sees Amanda’s lips moving, that obnoxiously indifferent look on her face only exemplifying the amount of care he has for whatever she’s saying right now. 

He takes his eyes from Amanda and places them onto his mirror image who just so happens to have a blue LED still shining brightly against his forehead. The first thought to pop into his head since he’s opened his eyes is the vision of himself, right now. He can see himself in his suit and looking normal, but with a smirk on his face and a blank LED atop his temple, signifying the lack of processing he’s managed to indulge in. 

That image fades from his mind, there and then gone like a mirage. Once again, the emptiness in him, ironically, seems to embody him. 

From the corner of his eye he sees Amanda’s face contort for the first time since he’s seen her, and into that of confusion. She seems to have just realised Nines’ absence from the conversation. Even so, she doesn’t seem too bothered, resting her expression back to its normal state and walking to the other side of the RK900 unit in front of him once again, hand still perched on his shoulder. 

Nines feels his fist clench. Not a thought or an emotion crosses his mind, and his vision may as well be a blank screen for all he cares. Less than a second, he feels his elbow pulled back behind his head, his fist leading in front beside it. Not a thought goes through his mind, or even a recognition as to what he’s doing. Within the same few milliseconds he’d managed to pull his fist back, he manages to lunge it forward as well, still without a thought. By no means was this action one he intended to play out, but his body led him to exactly where he wanted to go long before he ever considered it.

His body flows without his mind or processing to allow him to slow down or think, and the first thing he actively acknowledges to himself is the force exerted onto his knuckles as his metallic frame meets an indisputably immovable object.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect the next chapter soon!

**Author's Note:**

> you're gonna hate me for a while as this story progresses haha :)  
> but, I do want to say I'm currently on family vacation (amidst a global pandemic, stupid, I know) so there may be a decent amount of time between this chapter and the next.  
> (ps I wanna give Nines a hug rn too)


End file.
